Naivety
by Casey V
Summary: If they were normal humans, Roxas figures, they would know what these things were and what to call them. They aren't, and they don't, but they can probably be content with not knowing, anyway. --Axel/Roxas


Birthday!Fic for **ShinraiFaith**, who is totally worth 17,634 words, and that's probably also big enough to count as my AkuRoku day contribution, because after this there's no way in hell I'm coming up with something else by Thursday.

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**Naivety**

It started in the middle of a snowstorm, whirling and shifting white so bright it stung his eyes, Roxas standing in the middle of it--middle of the village, middle of the storm, a mar of angry black against the consuming white. He tugged the hood of his coat down to shield his face, right hand tight around the Keyblade. The snow was up to his knees, chilling clear through the leather of his boots, cloth and muscle and sinew down to the bone, and he stood and shivered and carved away at the Heartless leaping for his throat in sweeping arcs, back and forth. The storm was worse than fog, worse than darkness, it concealed anything and everything that lurked more than a few feet from himself, muffled any sound that might otherwise be heard, nothing but the scream of wind ringing in his ears.

The frozen puffs of his own breath further obscured his sight even as the storm tore them away. He bared his teeth even as his knees started to shake, even as his shoulders ached and his feet went numb and it was all he could do to keep swinging, keep the wind from knocking him down into the snow. He was stronger than this, he told himself, hissing and growling as Heartless faded into smoke on the tip of his Keyblade. He wasn't so weak as to give up now--not here, when giving up meant letting the snow and wind freeze him solid, a little shell of ice that laid still instead of moving around.

He wasn't so weak as to give up his own little spark of life that easily.

It started, then, when the columns of flame shot up around him, so warm and sudden it was painful. When a chakram whizzed past his left ear and into the bulbous Heartless bearing down on him from the side. Heat and light and a presence at his back, and without even having to look, in the darkness under his hood Roxas smiled.

It started, twenty minutes later when the nest of Heartless was obliterated to his satisfaction, released hearts glinting pink and bright and floating away over their heads. Roxas dismissed the Keyblade, finally, relaxing and shifting on his feet, the snow around them melted into puddles from the fire still blazing in places, trailing along the ground and emitting heat without properly burning anything that Axel didn't want it to. It started, just then as Roxas listed to the side, and didn't even realize he was collapsing until Axel caught him.

He wasn't sure, and tried to remember as his hood slipped back, fell away, if anyone had ever touched him before. Axel's hands were firm under his shoulders, holding him upright, and this close Roxas could feel the warmth from his body, smell the ozone crackling in the air around him. He felt limp, almost sleepy, and his head had dropped forward against Axel's chest, leather coat warm against his skin, counterpoint to the cold prickle of snowflakes in his hair and on the back of his neck.

It was... pleasant.

"I'm okay," he said after a moment, once his feet were back under him, one hand on Axel's elbow to push away. He realized, once Axel had nodded and straightened, that he wouldn't have minded staying there a while longer. Just there and warm with Axel's hands on his back, resting against him, the world white and quiet around them.

He wondered, while Axel surveyed his surroundings and withdrew the last of the fire and muttered something about villages and lodging and waved at him to start moving towards one of the buildings--what it was that meant. If it had something to do with feeling, or if it was just normal to want to be close to someone.

* * *

Most days were a simple blank. There were events to color them, thoughts and dialogue and other people moving through his space but Roxas's inner landscape was always, always blank. There was no good or bad about it, there was nothing to feel about it and the world that didn't exist around him reflected it in simple shades of white and gray, brilliant and soothing and plain.

Once in a while, though, something would disrupt the blank, pull the corners of it out of place or leave wrinkles on the surface. Usually it was something in his blood or his bones, restlessness or irritation, not proper feelings so much as a desire to do something or go somewhere. It was simple and understandable, it annoyed him because the blank was easier to deal with, easier to process, but it was never a conundrum. Never unidentifiable, never insatiable.

Three days after the snowstorm the blank was disturbed by something that Roxas couldn't quantify. It started in his blood like the restlessness, but it wouldn't be satisfied by going just anywhere, or doing just anything. It was accompanied by a sharp tug in his gut, and a thought in the front of his mind about warmth. It was curious and uncertain and Roxas didn't like it at all.

He ignored the disruption for most of the day, hoping that it would ultimately give up and disappear--but by nightfall, the castle halls still lit as bright as noon, it refused to be ignored further and his body began moving of its own accord. He wandered for a while, down corridors and up stairs and through rooms familiar and not, and told himself that he just wanted to stretch his legs. He found himself in front of the door with the Roman numeral VIII across the front and raised his hand to knock, and told himself that he just wanted to see if Axel was home from his assignment yet.

There was a muffled "Yeah," from inside, and he opened the door automatically, because that was what Axel had told him to do on previous visits, five times before Roxas figured he was serious. He stepped inside, closed the door and leaned back against it, and at that point all his mental resources left him, abruptly, to fend for himself.

Axel was striding across the room, peeling his gloves off on one side and shrugging out of his coat on the other, nudging the newest of a collection of easy chairs into place with one booted foot. He acknowledged Roxas's presence with a nod and a "Hey," and proceeded from there to grumble about rain, bitch about Marluxia, tell an incredibly lame joke he'd heard from a street vendor in Agrabah and then offer a brief summary of what he'd been doing for the last three days.

Roxas barely heard any of it, nodding or shrugging when Axel looked to him for approval and making a noise at the joke that might have been suitably derisive. His mind had gone as blank as the rest of his insides, just watching Axel and noting how everything about him was lean and sharp, how his hands moved when he told stories, like he was tracing the scene in the air.

Finally, though, Axel took a deep breath, stopped in the middle of the room and kicked the throw rug straight from where it had rumpled while he paced. He put his hands on his hips, looked directly into Roxas's eyes and said, "So, what's up?"

Axel might as well have asked how birds flew, or why it always rained in the city. There was an explanation for both but Roxas didn't know them, and while on a normal, blank day he would have had a response ready before Axel even asked, today there was nothing, not a single word waiting behind his teeth. He didn't even know what he wanted, and even if he did he didn't know what it was called, or how to ask for it. He opened his mouth once but his throat tightened until he couldn't breathe, and the tugging in his gut twisted on itself painfully, and he finally dropped his gaze to the floor. Turned a bit to the side and shrugged. "Nothing."

"Right," Axel said, drawing out the I sound like he really believed it. "Nothing."

Roxas scowled, cast him a glare that just made Axel raise his eyebrows, just for a moment before tilting his head down again, teeth against his lip. There were still no words in his mouth, none in his mind, no way to explain this idea and this twist in his gut. Axel was staring at him, eyes boring through his skull like twin blowtorches and waiting for him to cave, because Roxas would. He was stubborn like that.

He tried opening his mouth again but his throat clenched down on any attempt at speech, so he closed it and stepped forward instead. He found a safe point to focus on, the fold of fabric in Axel's shirt, right along his ribs where it had hiked a little on one side. He stared at that, followed it until he was so close he could smell clothes soap and sweat and couldn't see Axel's face.

He was going to just lean in, then reconsidered it, lifted his arms instead and settled them around Axel's waist, loosely, hands grabbing his own elbows in back. He moved gradually from that point; forehead first, against Axel's chest, soft cotton warm from his body. He had to turn his head, rest his cheek there instead to gain more contact, chest and stomach and _warmth_.

For a moment after Roxas settled against him, the room was deathly silent. Axel had an old clock with half the face missing but all the gears intact hanging on his wall, curious and industrial and completely useless for telling time, but Roxas could hear the ceaseless _tick tock tick tock_ of the gears turning like a mallet beating against the door. For every beat of it the thought pulsed in Roxas's head, _He doesn't want this, he doesn't like this, he's going to make me stop,_ until finally the silence and the clock and his thoughts were brought to a halt by a sound over his head. Axel licking his lips.

"Okay," Axel said, and it was quiet and breathy and quivered just slightly, like he wasn't sure. "Okay," he repeated, and it was even softer but more certain, and his arms wrapped around Roxas's shoulders.

It was like a switch flipped somewhere inside him, and all of Roxas's muscles relaxed at once. Tension draining away, breath releasing, eyes falling closed. Axel's hands were warm on his back, his chest warm under Roxas's cheek. There wasn't anything there, no thump or pulse of sound under his ear but there was the steady rise and fall, the soft rumbling pull and release of Axel breathing. It was soothing and melodic, and even as the room fell silent again it drowned out the sound of the half-face clock on the wall.

There was something new stirring over the blank inside himself, and Roxas wasn't sure what it was supposed to be. The tugging, twisting thing had dissipated, and now the sensation was in his chest, and it felt round and full. And unlike the restlessness, he didn't think he wanted to go anywhere else or do anything else at all.

* * *

Axel was the first to make the suggestion that they didn't necessarily need to do this standing up. After some thought, and a few sessions of sneaking into Axel's room to curl up in his arms in which his knees locked and his vision tried to go white with static, Roxas agreed.

After the third time, his nerves started to relax and his gut stopped twisting whenever he slipped through Axel's door and stood there for a moment shifting from foot to foot before finally moving forward to initiate this unnamed form of touch. After the fifth time, they were utilizing Axel's collection of easy chairs--the one with the wide green stripes was a favorite, being luxuriantly wide and capable of holding two people with nearly the comfort of a sofa, an ottoman equally as wide to stretch one's legs on. After two encounters involving this particular chair and finding the best positing in which to settle their bodies together, Axel reached up with one hand and started stroking Roxas's hair.

He wasn't sure how to fully describe the sensation this induced. It was both tingling pleasant and like the prelude to sleep; it made his eyes close and his mind wander, and after the third time this happened he did actually nod off on Axel's shoulder, sleeping peacefully for an unknown amount of time before waking in precisely the same position. Axel was staring at him, unreadable expression on his face that made Roxas's insides squirm.

After this, he wondered more about the feeling in his chest--the round one that was like a rubber balloon expanding to fill the empty space inside until it was an almost unpleasant pressure attempting to break free of his body. Roxas wondered what it was called, and upon wondering this the idea struck him that maybe Axel felt it, too. Or--maybe he didn't. Maybe he just felt what Roxas had initially, that it was rather warm and nice to be touching someone else. Maybe he was just humoring Roxas--it was Roxas, after all, who came to Axel's room, Roxas who initiated the touching, Roxas who had started the whole thing.

Maybe Axel felt nothing, the way he was supposed to. The way Roxas was supposed to. Maybe his inner landscape was still a perfect blank.

The idea troubled him, far, far more than it had any right to. Roxas began to pace, to deny the desire that tugged him towards Axel and twist his mind around the idea instead. Why was it Axel, anyway? Couldn't it have been anyone? Couldn't he go right now and find any person, human or otherwise, and experience the same thing?

On contemplation, during his unquiet pacing, at the time he reached a blue and ash balcony and felt raindrops patter onto his cheeks when he stepped onto it, Roxas decided that no. He had no desire for physical contact with someone else, another of the Organization or a random stranger--the idea made his blood cold and repulsed him slightly depending on who or what sort of person he thought of. That wasn't comforting, they didn't have the understanding with him that he did with Axel. They weren't--what was the word, the one they used sometimes. The human word that humans used.

Friends.

Roxas paced some more, and thought some more, and Axel left on assignment which made it easier to deny the tugging in his gut. Not being able to see Axel or know where he was made the desire fainter, but left him with something sick and hollow that was almost as bad.

What was it they were doing, though? Weeks passed, but Roxas still didn't have words for any of this. No idea or explanation and sometimes the thought would rise unbidden to his head that this was somehow wrong. That he and Axel shouldn't be touching this way or indulging in the comfort of it. That Nobodies weren't supposed to feel, anyway, so why was his chest twisting around with these foreign sensations? Something wasn't right, and Roxas shrugged his shoulders with guilt, and wondered if this was what Axel really wanted.

Then one night--after an assignment of his own had stolen him away from the Castle for a few days only to drop him back there, exhausted and dirty and waterlogged--he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep and woke in the still dark of dawn to an arm around his waist. A thin, angular body against his back.

The idea that he had been missed made the balloon in his chest swell and the idea that Axel had come to _him _made it engorge to near bursting and the idea that he could roll over in the circle of warmth Axel created, press palms against his chest and rest his forehead on a collarbone and inhale the smell of fire and soap and something spicy like the food they served in Agrabah--

The idea of Axel was full and perfect in his mind, technicolor and irreplaceable. The idea of being with him was definite. Inevitable.

* * *

After waking that morning in Roxas's bed fully entangled with each other, they began lounging in Axel's bed as well as the green-striped chair, arms and legs twined, quiet with conversation. Sometimes Axel would scoot down and lay with his head pillowed on Roxas's stomach, arms loosely around his waist, and Roxas would cautiously try touching his hair, fingers combing through the red spikes.

Sometimes they faced each other and sometimes they faced the same direction, and sometimes Roxas's head was on Axel's shoulder and sometimes Axel's was on his. Sometimes Roxas felt small and exposed and curled up tightly in Axel's arms and sometimes Axel was irritated and tense and would only relax after Roxas let him nuzzle into his hair and breathe, and Roxas rubbed both hands over his back.

Sometimes Roxas stirred and woke in the middle of the night to find Axel in his bed. It was awkward trying to sleep with him at first, there were too many limbs and sometimes it was too warm under the blankets and sometimes he was too close to breathe without feeling like he was suffocating, but eventually they found a few arrangements that worked, and Roxas would shift into one of those positions, fall back asleep with Axel's warmth and the smell of fire around him.

His favorite thing, though, was when Axel was lounging on his back with one wrist over his eyes, not really asleep, just silent and a little tired. He usually didn't want to talk, then, and that was fine; Roxas would settle in beside him, wait for the arm that wasn't covering Axel's eyes to wrap around his waist, and then he would slide over just enough that his head was resting on the center of Axel's chest. One hand limp in front of his face, he would close his eyes, and relax completely to the slow rhythm, inhale and exhale, Axel's body soothing him into deep contentment.

One day, though--a day Axel had been agitated at first and only relaxed after an hour or so of talking into Roxas's hair--when he slid into this position Axel began to go tense under him. It started in his arms, and then went into his shoulders, and eventually his whole body was wound so tight he was nearly trembling. Finally, just as Roxas began to inch away, not sure what he'd done wrong, Axel jerked upright and climbed off the bed, stalking into the room to collect boots, gloves, coat. Roxas wasn't sure if he was actually going anywhere or just doing it to be doing something. He himself remained on the bed, lounged on one hip, one hand still in the air, that sick, hollow feeling twisting around inside him.

"Stop doing that," Axel said finally, back to Roxas. "There's nothing there, so just stop it."

Roxas sat straight on the bed, hands in his lap and staring down at a fold of blanket, and tried to find the words to explain that it wasn't Axel's nonexistent heart he was listening for. He thought maybe he might have found them, but by the time he did and looked up from the fold, Axel was gone.

* * *

Traverse Town was one of the few worlds in which Roxas felt detached and comfortable. It was a shadowy, twilight sort of place, lit with neon and softly glowing stars and the orange curve of streetlights, and there was never want for a nest of Shadows or Soldiers or any of a plethora of Heartless to call up from the dark, to set on a feeding frenzy that could wipe out half the population of an entire district in a single night. There were already hearts, pink and glittery, floating up over the edges of the brownstone row of residentials, Demyx a block away and blasting through the first wave. Roxas would wait here, wandering through the darkened square and drawing them in like a magnet, like bees to honey. He had a little time, just to turn on his heels and wander, watch the glint of light over pavestones and listen to the burbling trickle of the fountain and watch the few people passing though, jaunty walks past the shops or into doorways, hurrying home or catching the last sale before closing, aimlessly wandering back to the hotel after a night on the town. Humans were strange creatures, unconcerned with the darkness that slithered and wove among them, unable to smell it and feel it in their bones the way Roxas did.

They would learn, in a minute or two. It was sad, in a way, he supposed--not really knowing what sadness was, not really comprehending regret. A shame, that's what it was. A shame that in a few minutes they would all die. Roxas wouldn't want it to be him, but since it wasn't, he couldn't really feel concern.

He paused at a corner that turned to an alleyway, still lit well enough to be a safe passage--started at the movement within it but after a second glance saw that it was only two humans. A boy and a girl, and maybe they would have been around his age if he had a proper, human age. He started, turned, stared, slid a little back and out of sight, though, because they were doing that thing. The touching, the thing that he and Axel did behind closed doors.

The boy was leaned back against the wall, smiling and saying something low that Roxas couldn't hear, something that made the girl snicker and giggle behind her hand. His arms were around her waist, slowly tightening and pulling her closer, and as she got closer she slid her hands up along his arms, up to his shoulders, settled there around his neck. Their foreheads pressed together, they spoke softly, back and forth, and he wished he knew the things they were saying. Wished he knew what sorts of things humans talked about when they touched like that, just to see if he and Axel were doing it right. If there was something extra he didn't know about.

The boy looked down abruptly, to the side, and the girl blinked, but then he lifted one hand and there was a small, blue flower between his fingers. The girl's eyes went wide when she saw it, and she smiled, beautiful, eyes glimmering in the streetlight as she took it, and then--

What--

That was--strange. That wasn't any kind of touch that Roxas had ever seen or heard of before. Lips together. The girl's head tilted up, and the boy leaned in and they pressed, and then they both shifted closer, hands and fingers tangling up in each other, in clothes and hair, mouths and lips moving and shifting and holding fast and taut, finally, before they pulled apart. It lingered though, the boy's hand sliding down the girl's cheek, lips parting last, and then their eyes fluttered open to smiles and blushes, and the girl looked down at her flower, something pleased in her expression that Roxas didn't have a name for. Something that echoed in his chest and shivered.

Roxas felt cold, standing there on the stones in the shadows, watching them rock from side to side together and continue their whispered words. He stood and stared at them, helplessly, until the tide of darkness behind him broke and the Heartless swarmed past him on either side like water breaking around a rock, shivering like wind through his clothes, his hair, between his fingers. The sheer force and power of it made his head spin for a moment, and when it righted and he looked up, the boy and girl were running down the alley, away from the dark nightmare creatures, the boy pushing the girl behind him to protect her. Roxas turned and walked away before he could see their inevitable end, hands reaching into the air to summon the Keyblades.

He didn't think while he fought, it was a benefit of the act that was refreshing, it reoriented him to the world, grounded him, brought him back to the center of things. He didn't think at all until the last Shadow vanished in a puff of dust and smoke, the last heart floating up into the air like a balloon, lost in the night sky and the sea of stars.

Then he walked back, through the chaos and remains of the district, Keyblades replaced in the netherspace where they existed when Roxas didn't need them. He walked, felt the long trails of the coat swishing around his ankles, hood pulled up to darken his face from sight of the survivors, and reached up to trail one gloved finger over his lips, wondering.

* * *

The idea, after careful thought, terrified him.

At least in that one instance, Roxas knew what the feeling was. Fear was something he had seen too much of, something that he understood in the face of humans on his off-world encounters, fleeing the swarms of darkness bearing down on them. The idea of approaching Axel, of leaning in and trying that strange touch of lips, to see what it felt like, to see what it felt like with _Axel_, made him want to turn around and flee like a Behemoth was on his heels, maw gaping, intent on swallowing him whole whether he had a heart or not. He wanted it, something deep inside him tingled and fluttered at the idea, wrapped around his throat in coils of anticipation but the sheer terror of actually doing so drove him away, made his feet turn when he saw Axel approaching down a corridor, made him scamper back to his own room instead of visiting Axel's, made him lock the door so he couldn't wake to warm arms in the dead of night.

Axel tried to catch him one day, in a corridor, one hand on Roxas's elbow as he tried to hurry past and Roxas jerked away from the touch because it electrified his nerves. Burned into them, left an imprint of Axel's hand behind even after he'd pulled away, several steps, and Axel stared down at him and frowned.

They stood there like that, Roxas rubbing his elbow and Axel staring, something in his expression that Roxas couldn't define, eyebrows drawn together. They stood and stared, and finally Axel turned on his heel and stalked away, shoulders tense and arms straight, without a word.

Roxas stayed where he was and stared at the floor, and his elbow still tingled, skin shivering around the shape of a hand.

* * *

After the day in the hallway, Roxas started to think he was being a little bit silly. That maybe he had overblown this whole thing in his head and maybe he was irritating Axel by being jumpy and indecisive. That maybe the idea of that new touch wasn't something to be afraid of--maybe it was just the extra, the continuation, the thing to conclude what they'd already been doing. The boy and girl had been the same, in that alley--touching the same way, and they did it, and it seemed like the good, right thing to do for them.

So after a day or two, he finally pulled himself upright, squared his shoulders, and went to knock on Axel's door. His insides fluttered strangely, the blank landscape long since overtaken by tugging and twisting and rippling edges, inflating and deflating and sometimes hollowing out, but it definitely had a form now. Chaotic and jumbled as it was.

Every nerve in his body jumped when Axel's voice echoed inside, the same as always, just a quick "Yeah," that was his non-invitation to enter, and he nearly turned tail and ran just at that, ears ringing and blood racing.

He clamped down on it, though. Grit his teeth, turned the doorknob and slid inside in small, silent movements.

Axel was sitting on one of the chairs, a newer one that was mostly black leather and dark cherry-toned wood. Usually when Roxas arrived he would move to the green striped one, or get up, or go to flop down on the bed, but today he merely looked up, noted Roxas's presence at the door, then returned attention to the fireplace. It was usually cold, a black grate over the front, but Axel had set a merry fire ablaze in it tonight, round with licking flames consuming nothing, just existing there inexplicably because their master willed it.

"Didn't think you were going to come back," Axel said, and the words bit like pinpricks into his skin.

Roxas shivered a little and moved into the room, found a path through the jumble of chairs to sit down carefully on a floral-pattered wingback, just on the edge, knees together and hands cupped around them. He dug through the things floating around inside himself, shivered when the fluttery feeling beat itself harder, swallowed at the sensation curling tight around his throat. There had to be words, a way to explain what was going on in his head. There had to be words for all these things he was feeling and for everything he wanted, there had to be a word for that touch. The one where you pressed your lips against someone else's. There had to be words for all of this.

"So, I guess you don't want to do this anymore, huh?" Axel turned his head to the side, just slightly, just enough for his eyes to turn and reflect the firelight, green rims with brilliant orange inside. "You could just say so."

"That--" Roxas started, but he didn't know where to go from there. All the sensation dropped into his stomach, swirled there sickly, nauseating. "I just--"

When he never finished Axel started going tense in the seat, hands curling over the armrests until the leather creaked. "If you don't want me to touch you, just say so." He stared, and his eyes were like fire. "Fuck, say something, Roxas."

He wanted to. He thought about saying no, don't be silly, but everything was twisting on itself and he wasn't sure if he was going to suffocate or throw up. A breath wheezed in his throat, the closest he could get to a plea, and that was all.

Roxas said nothing.

"You can go," Axel murmured, and all his attention was on the fire again.

* * *

Existence became a chore. It was like moving through molasses every day, like a weight bearing down on his head, like everything inside him was being sucked into a black hole. Axel left on assignment, he had his choice of a partner but picked Larxene instead, and Roxas didn't even see him before he left amid whispers of some long-term project the Superior was planning. He heard the story from Demyx, heard who Axel had taken along, and for some unknown, involuntary reason his lower lip quivered, just for a second.

He stayed in his room for a day, spread-eagled face-down on the bed with no desire to go anywhere, gray and drab thoughts marching across his mind, face against the pillow, and felt like he was sinking through to the center of the world. He wanted to find where the universe stored its time, if there was a place like the half-face clock on the wall, where all the gears showed and he could see how the march of seconds and minutes and hours worked, figure out how to turn it back to that night in Axel's room, sitting on the wingback chair and staring and his knees. He knew what he would say now. He thought about it, worked out all the words into a neat order in his head and they were the best he could do without knowing what the right words were.

He would say: _No, Axel, I don't want to leave and I don't want to stop. Sometimes I'm not sure what's going on and sometimes I'm afraid, but you're making things happen inside me. I think you're making me feel. And sometimes I'm not sure but I think that might be a good thing, I think it might be everything I want. And I don't know what to call this, but I want it to keep going. I want to stay._

But there was no magic he knew of that could stop or reverse time. Even the spell didn't really stop time, it just froze a person or thing within it and made them immobile. It was a cheat, but time was infinite. Invulnerable, indestructible.

Roxas curled up tight on his sheets when night fell and the room went dark, and felt the hollowness inside him quiver into his bones and prickle in his eyes.

* * *

The next time he knocked on Axel's door, Axel opened it, fast and sudden, eyes wide when he saw who was there, then narrowed when it sank in, then he frowned when he saw that Roxas was shaking. That his breath was coming in little hitches that made his voice catch against it.

So all he said, after taking this in, was a quiet, startled, uncertain, "What?"

Roxas's hands clenched into fists at his sides, and he stared at his toes and had to take several deep breaths, because the idea of never being with Axel again made him feel like his body was imploding on itself. "I don't want to go," he choked out, and it was nowhere near as eloquent as the words he'd decided on, the ones that were in his head but wouldn't come out of his mouth. "I don't--I don't want to stop."

"Shit, Rox," Axel said and his voice had a panicked edge, like he wasn't sure what to do or how to deal with this, hands rising and falling from his sides a few times before he finally settled on action and pulled Roxas inside by the shoulders.

Roxas barely registered it, the movement, the sound of the door falling closed behind them or the pad of feet moving from rug to tile and back. Axel was murmuring things that sounded like concern but it all slid past Roxas's ears like white noise, nothing but tone and an idea of intent. He was pushed down into the wingback chair and his arms automatically wrapped around himself, the hollow feeling tightening and sick, body still trembling and hitching and there was no way to stop it, no way to control it. Axel's hands slid down from his shoulders to his elbows as he knelt on the floor in front of him and reality came back when he could see Axel's eyes again, blinking round and green up into his, Axel's expression dropping further and further into shock and something like awe as he reached up, cupped Roxas's face in his hands.

"Oh holy fuck," he breathed, one thumb running along the lower lashes of Roxas's right eye, and it came away wet.

Axel had probably never had to reassure anyone before in his life, whatever his life might be considered. He moved his hands about five times, unable to settle on Roxas's elbows or shoulders or head, wavering back and forth between muttering curses and trying to soothe him. It was only when Roxas reached out, curled his fingers in Axel's shirt that he finally came to his senses and pulled Roxas off the chair and into his arms.

His body felt strong and comforting, fingers stroking through Roxas's hair and in soothing circles on his back, holding him securely and Roxas just clung there, and felt helpless. It was okay, though, to feel helpless around Axel. It was safe.

"Shh." Axel's voice was a warm vibration against his temple and he rocked a bit, side to side, a gentle rhythm to match the hands soothing over him. "It's okay, don't--don't--" His voice caught for a moment and he licked his lips, and Roxas was a little bit glad, somewhere inside himself, that Axel didn't know all the words, either. "Just don't, okay? I won't make you go."

Roxas nodded a little from where he was pressed against Axel's chest, and stayed there until the hitching faded away, until the trembling in his limbs stopped, until the hollow feeling inside him melted into relief.

* * *

He waited until he started feeling secure again, until things went back to the way they had been before. It only took a few days of Roxas appearing at Axel's door in the daytime and Axel appearing in Roxas's bed at night for everything to settle back comfortably, like leaning back in your chair after a big meal. The hollow feeling went away for the most part, though it would reappear in lesser force when one of them went off on assignment without the other. It was manageable, though, and most of what was stirring Roxas's inner landscape these days was the fluttery, excited feeling. It didn't terrify him anymore, and Roxas thought that might be because he was pretty sure Axel was feeling things, too. It was less frightening that way, more nervous.

He didn't know what made him decide on the day or the time. It might just have been the familiar comfort of the green-striped chair, half-face clock ticking away time above them and Axel leaned back into the corner of it, one elbow slung over the armrest and holding Roxas against him, head tucked under his chin, their legs sprawled across the ottoman and tangled together. They started out talking, Axel telling him a story about Port Royal and his most recent assignment, Roxas watching the hand dangling over the armrest move as he told it, gesturing from the wrist, turning and waving and pointing and drawing shapes in the air to illustrate. It petered out at some point, just dropping into quiet breath and the ticking of time, and then the thought rose into Roxas's mind, his blood started flowing faster, breath speeding, fluttery feeling bouncing around in his stomach and the rest of his insides shivering.

It was almost like a pulse, the thought pumping through his blood, _do it, do it, do it, DO IT_.

Axel started when he moved, probably at the way Roxas's breath had caught, a little jerk of his arms and a "What?" full of concern, like Roxas might inexplicably be slipping back into that trembling, hitching state that he didn't know how to handle. Roxas just moved though, shifted up so he could hold his weight on his knees, one arm against the back of the chair, breath fast and nerves shivering. He paused there for a moment, uncertain, moved his free hand to rest on Axel's shoulder and that seemed about right. He swallowed once, felt his knees shaking under him and thought about not doing it, of stopping now and backing away and saying it was nothing.

Then, because he was stubborn that way, Roxas leaned in and pressed his lips against Axel's.

It felt dry at first, sensitive in a way he couldn't define, and he tried to remember how the boy and girl in Traverse Town had done it. He opened his mouth just slightly, shifted so that their lips slid between each other and pressed again and--

_Oh_.

Roxas made a sound, completely involuntary and almost entirely in his nose because sparks had just run down his spine. His nerves were tingling and electrified, he tilted his head and pressed again and something in the core of his body shuddered. Axel breathed out heavy against his lips, eyes half-open and watching him, blinking a few times, and then his arms wound around Roxas's waist, dragging him closer, hands all over his back and Axel's mouth was tangling with his in ways that made his breath stop.

It was too wet, sometimes, and their lips didn't always line up the right way and he wasn't entirely sure they were doing this right but that didn't seem to matter much to either of them. He pressed too hard once and Axel had to make him stop and he was careful to be softer and gentler after that. At one point while he was the one moving and guiding their mouths together, fingers buried and caught in brilliant red hair that he couldn't see because his eyes wouldn't stay open, whole body shivering with the sensations running from his lips through his blood and back again, Axel tilted his head back and moaned. The sound vibrated against his lips, made his breath catch, and they stayed there for a long moment, foreheads pressed together and panting.

"Where did you learn to do that?" Axel breathed finally, eyes still closed, hands settled on Roxas's waist.

He felt too warm, like he'd spent too long in the shower with the hot water turned up. "There were two humans in Traverse Town doing it," Roxas murmured back, and it almost felt like a dream, like they were trapped in an alternate reality together where nothing existed but the two of them. "It looked... nice."

"It is." Axel's eyes fluttered open, technicolor eyes staring into his and his head tilted a little so their noses rubbed together, so when he licked his lips Roxas could feel the damp heat of his tongue. "It feels good."

Roxas shivered, eyes sliding shut, helpless again but not in the same way--helpless to the sensations running through his body, helpless to the desire for more. Helpless to something new that was forming, another feeling, huge and shivering, and the sense of his inner landscape shifting again, starting to take on shape and a tint of color. "Yeah," he murmured and it was all breath that brushed over Axel's mouth, echoed back against his, like a tease.

He could feel the grin on Axel's lips, hear it in his voice, his teeth and the way his cheeks dimpled. "What's it called?"

Roxas whispered, "Dunno," and what he meant was, _do it again_.

Axel complied, and it was like an agreement that it didn't matter whether this had a name or not.

* * *

Things remained the same, but were different. Different in a good way, like an advancement, like a level up, like everything had been refreshed into something a little brighter and clearer. Roxas still stole away to Axel's room whenever he had some spare time and knew his friend was there, but now he felt the sweet, sharp claws of anticipation in his gut while he waited for an opportunity, felt the heady blood rush of excitement as his feet carried him double-fast down the halls to Axel's door, felt the tremble in his limbs as he knocked. There were times when they still just lounged and held each other, curled close and tight together, each content with the presence of the other.

Mostly, though, once the door had closed behind Roxas, everything was about the new touch. The press of lips, the damp heat of mouths moving together, the feel of Axel's fingers in his hair and down his back.

Axel was the first to use his tongue. They might have been a little closer than usual that day, Axel leaned back comfortably in the chair with Roxas in his lap, knees parted around his hips, nearly pressed chest to chest and it was deep and slow, Roxas shivering and clutching the shirt covering Axel's back. They were moving pretty equally at first but then Roxas relaxed into the feel of Axel's hand massaging his neck, body all but going limp as he relinquished control, and then, just as a sigh escaped his nose, he felt something cool and wet brush slowly between his lips.

He gasped and pulled back, blinking as Axel chuckled and licked his own lips slowly. "You've been eating sweets again."

Roxas stared at Axel's mouth, where his pink tongue had disappeared back inside, and felt his cheeks go hot, skin prickling and mouth hanging open. He'd never moaned before, not the way Axel did from time to time when he really enjoyed what they were doing, when the feeling went deep, but he thought he might if Axel did that again.

"Hmm." Axel grinned and nuzzled his cheek, murmuring like a contemplation, lips brushing against the corner of Roxas's. One very small, brief lick right there. "That ice cream you like, maybe?"

He made a noise that wasn't quite agreement and Axel's chuckle was all breath, moving so the edges of their mouths were just barely touching and his tongue slid between Roxas's lips, past his teeth, brushed against the roof of his mouth and Roxas moaned so loud he was sure the rest of the Castle must have heard it. He shuddered, bone-deep when Axel pressed their mouths together, tongue withdrawing slowly and it felt strange, tasted odd and felt kind of slimy but not unpleasant. Not at all.

Then Axel murmured, "Now you try it," into his mouth and he didn't think he'd ever clung to something so hard in his life.

Axel still appeared in his bed at night from time to time, but now Roxas blinked his eyes open in the morning to feel a thumb brushing over his cheek, green eyes watching him from behind the bulge of the pillow, and before he could say anything Axel's lips were on his, warm and slow, and he complained about the taste without really caring. The shivering feeling in his chest swelled up and he felt a ridiculous, wide smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, and sometimes--once or twice, maybe--he laughed.

* * *

Demyx was one of the people that Roxas approved of spending time with. He wasn't on the same level as Axel, of course, and Roxas wasn't sure that he'd use the term 'friend' to refer to Demyx, especially with the new connotations that he and Axel's relationship had taken on. He was something approaching a friend, maybe. A less intimate variety.

Today, they were on the outcropping of a cliff overlooking a little French village, quiet in the morning sunlight with only the bakeries open yet, the smell of fresh bread wafting up towards them. Demyx had directed all his energy into re-stringing his sitar, head ducked low over the instrument, one strand of coppery wire stuck in his mouth as he worked. Roxas sat with his arms around his knees, staring at the silver zipper that split his coat into two equally black sides.

Demyx started humming a tune to himself, counterpoint to the chaotic roll of Roxas's thoughts, all his doubts and worries and the overwhelming sensations taking over his insides and revamping the entirety of the landscape therein and overshadowing any doubt or second thought he might have, anyway. It was a little frightening, what was happening. Change.

He watched Demyx lift the sitar by the neck, eyeing the length of the strings for a moment before nodding to himself in approval and starting on the next. Roxas watched for another minute, cleared his throat, stared back down at his knees and said, "I think I'm starting to feel things."

He wasn't sure why he had decided to talk to Demyx about this; Axel should be the one he was telling this, Axel should be the one to know what was going on inside him, he was the cause of it after all. But Axel made his mind go blank and his throat close up, Axel was too close to him and to all of this, and Demyx was an objective third party. It was easier, to open his mouth and say it, because Demyx wasn't involved.

Uninvolved as he was, Demyx stared for a few long seconds, eyes blinking and string dangling from his mouth in a limp, inverted U until he finally reached up to remove it. "Yeah? Like what?"

"I don't know." Roxas shifted from side to side, crossed his legs instead and sat with his hands in his lap. "There's one in my chest that's round, and really full, like a balloon blowing up. And there's one in my stomach that's fluttery and makes everything speed up, and there's another one that's just--it's really, really big, bigger than me or anything else, and it shivers."

"Weird," Demyx observed, blinking a few more times, then turned attention back to his sitar, securing both ends of his string. For a moment it seemed like that was all he had to say, but once he was winding the knob to draw the string taut, he continued, thoughtfully, gauging the tension. "I think I felt something once. It was a while ago."

"Yeah?"

"Mm, I was in Atlantica. Well, not _in_ Atlantica, I was scouting the shore and the villages there to see if the Heartless had made it to land from the world's heart yet." Demyx scoped the length of his sitar again, nodded again and drew the last string out of the paper packets at his side, uncoiling it slowly like the process was helping his memory. "It was just a really nice day, you know? The sky was clear and the sun was warm, but not too hot, and the ocean was calm and perfect turquoise. So I just stood there and watched the waves rolling into the beach and the seagulls rocking in the sky, and I felt this sort of swelling in my chest." He paused, securing the string in a knob, cast a glance over at Roxas to see if he was still listening. "It was sort of like your balloon feeling, maybe. It made me laugh."

"Oh." Roxas licked his lips thoughtfully, watched the last new string being pulled taut, waited until Demyx was satisfied and strummed one finger across them, discordant sound trembling in the air. "So... what happened?"

Demyx shrugged, sat back and pulled the instrument into his lap to tune it properly. "It went away."

Roxas stared down at the village, beginning to bustle with activity now that the sun was higher. The low tones of strings being plucked and tuned against each other became a dirge of sorts, a prelude to the fate of that village, the nest of Heartless they were about to awaken and unleash upon it. He stared until Demyx sighed in satisfaction and climbed to his feet, stared and thought about the boy and girl in Traverse Town, wondered if they had felt these things and knew what they were called. He wondered, and he felt a pang of something that wasn't pain, that he couldn't identify, remembering how they had run--

"Ready to go?" Demyx asked, bent a little and peering down at him.

Roxas swallowed hard, something tight and unsettled in his throat and his stomach. "I don't think... I want them to die."

Demyx blinked, exactly twice. "What?"

"Don't you think that maybe it's wrong?" Roxas swallowed again, still looking at the village and not at his partner. "Letting the Heartless kill them?"

"That's part of the plan, though. The Superior knows what he's doing." Demyx lowered the sitar to rest on the ground, hand on the neck as he crouched, free arm resting on his knee. "I think those feelings are making your logic go fuzzy."

Roxas shrugged, still not quite looking at him, still feeling a pang and a kind of sickness in his stomach, knowing what they were about to do. "Yeah, maybe."

"Don't worry about it, I'm sure they'll go away soon." Demyx grinned a brilliant, sunshine grin, clapped one hand against Roxas's shoulder and stood, waiting for Roxas to follow suit. "Let's get to work."

He tried to keep himself moving as much as possible, fighting as much as possible, but even with the Keyblades singing through the air and his muscles jumping with adrenaline and the thrill of battle, he couldn't find his center. He kept catching glimpses, hearing screams, and the sickness in his stomach would clamp down, stop him in his tracks, throw him even further out of kilter with the rest of the world.

When it was over, before Demyx could find him, he stumbled behind a thatch-roofed house and threw up violently, trembling, gloved fingers clawing at the plaster walls and in his mind he could see the boy and girl running, running down the alley, running from certain death, only it wasn't the boy and girl. It was him and Axel, hands grabbing for each other and stumbling, Axel righting him and pushing him ahead, faster, and then suddenly he was moving on his own. It was just Roxas, and Axel was yelling at him to run, facing down the hordes with a handful of flame, and he was going to die. He was going to die, and then Roxas would be alone.

* * *

Axel wasn't at the Castle when Roxas returned in a swirl of darkness, still shaking and ill and unable to look at Demyx. He spent an hour in the shower, trying to wash away the feeling of death and the sickness spreading inside him, the sensation that he'd done something wrong, he'd done something horrible, and it didn't make sense because he'd never felt bad about it before. It never seemed to matter before, but now he could imagine what it was like, being on the other side. Being the victim.

Still shaking and damp he crept through the corridors, doubling back to avoid the others, slinking like a Dusk around corners until he could finally slip into Axel's room. Axel's room with the crowd of mismatched chairs, the cold fireplace, the half-face clock, and no Axel to be found, so Roxas crawled into his bed instead. Wrapped himself in the blankets that smelled like Axel, like spice and fire and teenage boy, and stayed there until he couldn't remember not being there, until his mind fogged with time and the clock ticking. Until exhaustion finally lulled him to sleep.

He woke up to the sound of the door opening, footsteps shuffling in the cool dark and Axel grumbling to himself, shoving the door closed and attempting to kick off his boots. He was halfway through the second, which didn't seem to want to go further than his ankle, when he finally caught the back of one of the chairs and looked over to see Roxas peering at him over the edge of the covers.

Axel blinked for a moment, then smiled, tugging the boot the rest of the way off. "Hey."

Roxas made a small noise into the blanket, watching Axel's every move and memorizing each, the way he kicked at the boots vindictively, the way he bent double to shuck his coat off over his head, too impatient for zippers. The way he pulled his gloves off one finger at a time. The way he grinned, wide and indulgent, slipping under the covers to join him.

"Miss me?" he murmured, fingers brushing through Roxas's hair, and paused. "What's up?"

Roxas felt his hands trembling, clutching reflexively at the shoulders of Axel's shirt to keep him close. "What... if..." he started, voice shaking like the trembling feeling in his chest, aching at the ideas and possibilities running through his mind. "...you die?"

Axel made an incredulous noise, chuckled softly and nuzzled Roxas's forehead, arms drawing him in, lips brushing along his hairline. "Don't be ridiculous, I'm not going to die."

"But." Roxas said the word and stopped, relaxing forward just enough to rest his forehead against Axel's neck, warm skin against his. He didn't know how to express it, the way he was feeling, unless-- "What if it was me?" Roxas closed his eyes and murmured the words softly, fingers brushing down over Axel's shoulder. "What if you lost me?"

For a second, Axel was on the verge of dismissing the idea again, of another soft laugh and _What are you talking about, Roxas? You're in a weird mood today, wondering about things that'll never happen_, but then, just on the edge of it, he suddenly went still. Not moving, not breathing, nose still buried in Roxas's hair, arms still on his back, silent and completely, totally still. Thinking about it.

When Axel breathed again, his arms tightened, crushing Roxas against his chest as though keeping him as close as possible would keep any danger away. Buried his face in the curve of Roxas's neck like a denial. "I won't let anything happen to you," Axel hissed, and he believed it.

Roxas thought about the boy and girl and about running down alleys, and decided not to tell him that this was precisely the problem.

* * *

It was a while before Roxas wanted to do much aside from bury himself in Axel's arms, wrap tight around him to assure that Axel was alive and there with him. It was a while, and a few more assignments, before he stopped feeling sick and dirty and started feeling instead that something inside himself had gone hard. He didn't think it was right, that hardness, but it was better, easier to deal with than the alternative, so he let it be and tried again to return to how things were before.

He wondered, after sliding into Axel's lap one evening, petting fingers through his hair and pressing their lips together, a little fast and a little demanding, if Axel was struggling the same way he was. Roxas was sure that he had started to feel things, too; he saw it in Axel's eyes sometimes, in the way he smiled, little things that were like reflections of what Roxas was experiencing. Axel didn't seem to be having the kind of breakdowns that Roxas was, though--or if he did, he was either far better at hiding them or was having them somewhere Roxas wouldn't see it.

Sometimes, though, when he came back from an assignment--they were all the same these days, this thing that the others were whispering about, the Superior's special project, and Roxas was never assigned to go with him--there was something about him that wasn't right. Something shivering and uncertain in the way he stared.

Tonight he was relaxed, joking and playful and talkative and Roxas wanted nothing more than to be tangled up with him and sighing into his mouth. He worked his way into that state without feeling the need to rush; it wasn't that late yet and the curtains were drawn, the lights were off, a comfortable fire crackling in the fireplace throwing orange and red light across the room.

It was slow, Axel's body pressed tight against his, just a bit of his tongue brushing into his mouth from time to time like a tease. They were so good at this, now, at knowing what to do and how to move and what the other liked, how to make each other shiver, how to draw out sounds, how to leave the other limp and boneless. This time was like a game, both waiting for the other to give in, hands sliding slowly, lazy movements and breath.

And then the press of Axel's hands against his back made him shiver, and his tongue dipped in deeper, achingly slow and teasing, and heat slid down Roxas's spine, shivered through his core and down, pooled right between his hips and--

_Want_. It pulsed through his body, more like a heartbeat than anything he'd felt yet, hot and throbbing and every touch; every movement of lips made it burn more, made his muscles quiver with it. He pressed closer, curled his fingers tighter, stuttered a gasp against Axel's mouth and gave up the kiss, lips trailing and nuzzling all down Axel's cheek, down his neck to his shoulder and back up, inhaling him, hands moving restlessly everywhere and nowhere and none of it made sense except that his body wanted to _move_, his senses wanted _more_, and the shivering heat pulsing through him that echoed the shivering emotion he couldn't name wanted _Axel_, inside and outside and all around him.

"Roxas." Axel murmured his name, hands on his shoulders to hold him still and Roxas moaned impatience, panting softly, leaned in to Axel's lips instead. "Roxas," he repeated, muffled, hands moving to Roxas's cheeks.

"More," Roxas breathed, breath shuddering at the touch, Axel's palms, rubbing against the sensation and wanting that touch everywhere, all over his body, fingertips against bare skin. Just the idea of it burned in every nerve.

Axel watched him, green eyes narrow in the firelight, mouth open and curious and a little bit concerned. "More what?"

Roxas shook his head, unable to explain it, skin prickling and blood rushing, heat and shivering pleasure everywhere Axel came into contact with him but none of it was enough. Want, that was all it was, deep and burning, no direction. "Touch me," he gasped against Axel's mouth, pushed their lips together deep and hungry and sparks rolled under his skin, shuddering under the feel of Axel's hands dragging down his sides.

Nothing had ever felt this good before. Every sensation was sharp and magnified, every touch and brush of lips and fingers was electric, shot through his body and straight to the knot of heat, hard between his legs, pleasure curling and tightening right there and he shifted on his knees, wanting a touch _there_ the worst but afraid to know just how good that would feel. He tilted his head back to breathe, hands and body still moving restlessly and Axel ducked down to his neck. Lips trailing oh so softly up, up to his ear and behind and his hands scratched at Axel's back, his hips jerked and his mouth begged _pleasepleaseplease_ without knowing what to ask for.

Axel's hands steadied him, palms flat on his shoulderblades, murmuring into his ear. "I don't understand."

Roxas shook his head again without any real reason behind it, body moving almost entirely on its own, clinging to Axel and writhing, voice catching on desperation, breath, half-formed sounds. Axel tried to hold him steady, foreheads together, brushing his hair back and Roxas broke. Barely knowing what he was doing, he grabbed Axel's hand, tangled his fingers with it, guided it down between his legs and pressed.

He shuddered, limbs trembling and useless, hips jerking into the curve of Axel's hand and fingers shaking when they curled in his shirt, clinging to him helplessly, desperate and moaning when Axel started moving his hand on his own, rubbing gently at first, then firmer, then curling and squeezing just a bit and Roxas was _lost_. He was sure Axel had been staring at him at one point, mouth open and eyes wondering but he couldn't remember now, when the world was white-hot pleasure, surrounded by warmth and the smell of fire, Axel's voice murmuring in his ear while his body squirmed and shuddered and writhed. His nerves were coiling on themselves, all the pleasure and heat condensing down, twisting and tightening and it was hard to breathe, hard to hold himself up and he pressed his face into Axel's shoulder, stuttered around a moan and a sound like Axel's name tingling on his tongue and his whole body was shaking and tightening, tightening and he was going to explode--

And he did, but it was beautiful.

He caught his breath in gulps like coming up from underwater, gasps that shivered in his chest, fingers curled in handfuls of fabric and tense for another moment still--and then all his muscles uncoiled at once, body sinking limp where it was, a deep, pleasant lethargy settling in his bones. Axel's hands were on his back now, soothing up and down as he gradually learned to breathe again. He noted, distantly and somehow without much surprise, that he was going to have to wash his pants.

"You okay?" Axel murmured into his hair, damp with sweat now but he'd never cared about that.

Roxas heaved a deep breath, turned his head a little on Axel's shoulder so he could breathe properly, hide his face a bit because--what was it he'd just done? Something strange and intimate and a little frightening, something completely new. His words came out in a rush of air. "It--felt _really_ good."

"Did it?" Axel asked, voice a curious, thoughtful whisper.

He wondered, for a moment, if he should be alarmed by this, or at least more so than he already was. His own body--the one thing he should know better than anything else, the one thing that connected him to the world and made him solid within it--making demands that it had never made before. Roxas breathed out, a light shiver still in his bones even now, on the verge of drifting off to sleep on Axel's shoulder, so completely relaxed that he had to work up the energy to worry. "Yeah."

* * *

Roxas woke up the next morning in Axel's bed, alone, and Axel's coat and boots and gloves were gone, which probably meant he was out on that same assignment again. Initially, he was going to just roll over and go back to sleep, ignore the world until someone came looking for him, but when he moved to do so he noted something stiff and crusty on the fabric against his inner thigh. And remembered.

He scampered back to his own room with red ears and a fierce determination not to run into anyone else, barely missed Demyx coming up an adjoining corridor, locked the door securely behind himself and stripped, shoved the soiled garments into the bottom of his laundry and closed himself in the bathroom to wash off. After several minutes of accomplishing little aside from feeling increasingly dirty and embarrassed he decided on a shower instead, followed by a very long, uncomfortable session of scowling at the mirror and his own traitorous body.

This couldn't be right. The other kinds of touch were nice, for sure, but they were never this overwhelming, never this deep and powerful. Was it normal? Was it something that happened often? Could it happen to Axel, too, or was Roxas some kind of freak of nature? He didn't expect a name because he never had a name for any of this, but it shouldn't feel this strange and alien. He couldn't dig away the feeling in the pit of his stomach that maybe he'd done something wrong again. He'd all but forced Axel to touch him someplace private and although it felt good--really, _incredibly_ good--it was just too strange and bizarre a thing to be normal and right.

He told himself this, but it didn't keep him from wanting to do it again.

Two days later Axel still wasn't back, and Roxas caught himself drifting off near the end of a short assignment with Demyx. Just a quick scout, checking to see if the Heartless nests in the Land of Dragons had migrated at all. They'd have a proper mission there later, but not, he hoped, until after Axel got back. He was leaning back against a hut in the village, watching the snow fall and remembering that it was right here where all of this had started. He stared out into the whiteness, mind wandering and wondering, considering what might happen when Axel finally got back. Imagined slipping through his door and locking it behind him, imagined Axel's grin and the feel of his lips, a slow press in greeting becoming deeper, hungrier. Imagined Axel shoving him up against the door, hot and hard against him, hands roaming everywhere and lips moving slowly over his neck--

The sound of Demyx saying his name made him jump, tremor in his limbs and cheeks hot and he had to pull his hood up to hide his face, curl his hands into fists and stalk away to save his pride. They portaled back to the Castle almost immediately, which was fortunate, because his blood was running hot and his skin was prickling and the _want_ was coiling in his stomach, and Axel still wasn't back.

Roxas hurried back to his room and climbed into the shower and flipped the tap over to cold the way he did when he got back from Agrabah and couldn't shake the desert heat out of his skin. It worked, and he let out a sigh, and wished he could believe that this was the end of it.

* * *

Three days later Axel still wasn't back, and Roxas, left to his own devices without an assignment (Demyx was dispatched to the Land of Dragons with Xigbar instead), had nothing to distract his mind from thinking about anything else.

He was lying in bed in the dead of night, unable to sleep, in a sweaty tangle of sheets and his mind singularly focused on the idea of Axel touching him. Under his clothes, on bare skin. Axel's hands were rough and calloused from chakrams and fire, and Roxas wondered what it might feel like. Fingertips trailing over his thighs. Palms sliding down his chest. Hands curling around his hips and then down, down to where the claws of heat and want were coiling up again. Hips trembling, pressing up against nothing, legs squirming and his mind was as treacherous as his body now, because it was suggesting things. The thought that maybe he could try touching bare skin with his own hands, the thought that maybe, since Axel wasn't here, he could do it himself. Bring himself up to that shivering explosion of pleasure again. There was no reason he couldn't--it was just a touch, just hands on his body.

It couldn't be right, it _couldn't_ be but the idea was right there and almost practical, far more tempting than another cold shower. It made him consider, also, the possibility that Axel wouldn't want to do that again. That maybe he'd forever have to deal with this demand on his own, and doing so was far, _far_ more tempting than a lifetime of cold showers.

His hands began sliding under his shirt before he'd even decided, like his body knew better than his mind did what it needed. He had to squeeze his eyes shut at first, bite his lip, tell himself that no one would see, no one would know, no one would wander in. The feel of his own hands sliding over his stomach was sharp, made his skin shiver, and he stopped thinking about what he was doing. Imagined they were Axel's hands instead (even though they were too small and the calluses were in the wrong places). Axel's hands pushing his shirt up, fingers trailing over his sides almost ticklish, thumbs brushing over nipples and the twinge of pleasure that caused made his hips jerk, made his back arch, made his breath stutter. He tried to remember the things Axel had whispered in his ear but he'd been too scattered at the time to listen; tried to remember the way Axel's neck smelled when he buried his face in it but his bed smelled too much like himself for the memory to come clear. He tried to pretend, tried to imagine, hands tentatively slipping under the waistband of his boxers, skin trembling under his own touch, that it was Axel doing this. And the idea was bright in his mind, but only just right there, at the edges of his perception.

Roxas wrapped his right hand around himself and moaned, body shivering and pushing into the touch, content with that even though Roxas himself wanted more. He tried a few things, discovered that a curled hand and long, firm strokes felt the best, made his back arch and his toes curl. And that was fine and he was panting and writhing, blood rushing hot and nerves alight and electric and pleasure shuddering in his belly, free hand clawing at the sheets but he wanted more. Wanted Axel's hands with Axel's calluses, wanted Axel's body warm against his, wanted the taste of Axel's tongue in his mouth, wanted the smell of cooking spices and ozone and sweat all around him, flame-red hair rough under his hands and his nose, green eyes staring and watching him, always watching everything he did and his face, watching how he moaned and gasped and his eyelids fluttering. Wanted Axel's voice murmuring, vibrating against his lips and his ear and his neck, wanted Axel stuttering his name--

His voice caught when it happened, high-pitched sound in his throat and then nothing, mouth open, body taut and then shuddering, trembling when it burst. He lay on his back gasping for breath, limbs still squirming for a moment before it ended, falling limp, sweating and trembling and panting.

It was even more intense this way, he thought; skin on skin. More intimate, almost shameful but it felt so good. It couldn't be that bad, not if it was something that just happened, not if your body just wanted it. Maybe it wasn't so abnormal.

But, he remembered, that didn't mean that Axel would like it. Didn't mean that he'd want to ever do it, even if he felt it the way Roxas did.

The idea that he might be doomed to dealing with the want on his own like this, forever, and never with Axel again--it made the feelings in his chest twist and ache. He rubbed one hand across his eyes, laid his arm over them like hiding from the dark interior of his room and what he'd just done in it, and laid like that until the sweat on his skin cooled. Until his body finally went cold enough to shiver and want the blankets again, and even after that, until he was too cold to sleep. He crawled back under the covers then, curled up into a tight ball, and wished there was some way to force these things to stop, once they were uncovered. Wondered why you could turn the switch on, but never turn it off again.

* * *

Five days later, Axel came back.

Roxas first saw him from the end of a corridor, blue-tiled and bright as day, shouldering his door open and arguing with Saix about something. He was too far away to hear anything but the formless echoes of Axel's voice, raised and strained, Saix responding in low grumbles in counterpoint. Axel paused at one point, hand on the doorframe, door open but unable to retreat into the room with Saix still there--paused and turned his head almost like he'd heard something. His eyes locked with Roxas, just then, and for that instant he looked completely, horribly lost.

He couldn't explain what it was that made him back away--it might have been Saix narrowing his eyes and hissing something at Axel, Axel's almost guilty look in response. The idea that maybe Axel being assigned to the Superior's 'special' project was bigger and deeper than he knew about. It might have been a hint of fear, and the idea that Axel had been away for so long and might have had time to think about what was going on, about what had happened the night before he left. It might have been pride. Roxas still wasn't sure what was going on, what this new thing was, still didn't even know how he himself felt about it and he sure as hell didn't know what to _do_ about it.

It didn't make sense, though; avoiding Axel. He'd done it before, it never worked, it usually made things worse if not completely unbearable, and ultimately resulted either in realizing he was an idiot or having to repair a fracture in their relationship. Or both. It didn't make sense, but Roxas backed away anyway, turned and went back the way he came, a hard knot in his throat and the huge, shivering feeling settled into his chest and ached.

He held out for the better part of a day. He sat through the meeting as long as he could without looking at anything but the hands folded on his knees, speaking when he was asked a question, and it went just fine until Axel started talking. It was like a magnet drawing his attention, demanding his gaze. He stared at his knees with fresh determination, hands curling in his coat but his mind betrayed him again, provided him with an imaginary image of Axel talking, the way his mouth moved and his hands gestured, knowing instinctively the mannerisms that went along with each phrase echoing through the meeting hall. Roxas didn't realize his eyes were opening, that he was looking up, until he blinked and there was the real Axel, leaning back in his chair at the end of his speech, green eyes bright, tongue pulling back between his lips.

He was destined to go back at some point and he knew it; he was doomed to go back, drowned and lost eternally within the idea of Axel. Sometimes just the thought of Axel would make his skin prickle and his breath hitch. Sometimes it made the feelings in his chest expand until he felt like he was floating, balloons carrying him away into the sky. Sometimes it made him close his eyes and realize that the landscape inside him was still changing, tightening, the shape becoming clearer--two curves on one end, a point on the other, the slightest blush of baby-pink coloring it, and all he could think was, _this can't be possible_.

* * *

It was past midnight when Roxas finally gave in, after a few hours of pacing in his room, deciding and then changing his mind, going to bed in a pointed fashion only to toss and turn and tangle his sheets up into a knot. He'd never been the one to sneak into Axel's room late at night, crawl into his bed and fall asleep there without waking the redhead, but he thought maybe tonight was the night to try it. He was demure about it, padding down the hall barefoot in a shirt and sleep pants rather than the boxers he usually slept in (although most of those were now in the wash, thanks to the combined treachery of his mind and body working against him). He felt kind of guilty, slipping through Axel's door--it would have served him right, if it had been locked.

Axel wasn't in his bed, though; the silvery light through the windows open to the patter of rain illuminated him on the chair, the green-striped one under the half-face clock, sprawled out with his head on one armrest and his legs crossed over the other one, arms resting across his stomach. He turned his head when the door clicked shut, taking in Roxas's presence for a moment before returning his attention to the ceiling, unusually still and pensive. "I was starting to think you weren't coming."

Roxas shrugged a little, back against the door, and it felt almost like the first time he'd slunk in here, months ago after a bit of a moment in a snowstorm planted an idea in his head. He started out watching Axel and then settled his attention on the floor, lump forming in his throat and holding back his words. "I wasn't going to."

"Hm." Axel didn't say anything other than that, just a hum, not even really surprised. Roxas shuffled on his feet, picked at the side seams of his pants for a moment before wandering forward, no hurry, no proper direction, but he decided to sit on the ottoman eventually. It was softer than it looked, and he sank into it a bit, leaving him staring at Axel's shoulder, hands dangling between his knees.

The clock ticked, and Roxas thought about how things had been simple, once. How everything had been blank, nothing had been complicated, Axel had just been the person he preferred to be around. He wondered how humans could stand to live in this sort of state all the time. He wondered if he'd have to get used to it, too, if the thing taking shape in his chest was really what it looked like.

"You're doing it again," Axel said, eyes sliding sideways to watch him. "That thing. The one where you sit and stare at the floor instead of talking to me."

Roxas shrugged a little, looked up just long enough to meet his gaze. "I can never think of what to say."

"But you _have_ something to say. That's the problem." Axel reached up to rub his forehead, block out the sight of Roxas hunching around himself a bit more.

The world was silent, for a moment. Just for a moment, and then Axel said, almost too quiet and too uncertain from under his hand, "Didn't you miss me?"

Roxas blinked through the half-lit room, at Axel and the way he was curled, the way he was almost hiding, and considered for the first time that he was afraid, too. That maybe he always had been and Roxas just didn't notice. "Yeah," he said, almost equally as soft, surprised at how certain the one word sounded even with the lump in his throat. He swallowed around it, amending the one word just slightly. "A lot."

Axel moved his hand into his hair, peered at Roxas from beneath it for a second before his other hand snaked out from around his waist, hesitant at first before Roxas started moving, letting himself be gathered up, dragged onto the chair, onto Axel's chest and held there, both arms wrapped around him and Axel burying his nose in Roxas's hair, inhaling deeply. Let his eyes fall closed, let himself relax in the cocoon of warmth, curled up in Axel and his smell and the sound of his voice, and thought that he'd give up anything for this. Anything and everything, just to lie here and feel like the universe and everything in it was complete.

"I missed you," Axel murmured against his forehead, lips and breath brushing over his skin. "I missed you a lot. Roxas." He didn't seem to have any purpose to saying his name, it was there for validation, there to have the sound of it on his tongue and in the air. "It's strange, you know. I mean--" Axel sighed again, reached out and waved a hand through the air aimlessly before letting it flop back, palm flat on Roxas's back. "This. I mean, I..." he started, and his voice caught around the breath, and he exhaled before continuing. "I can't stop thinking about you."

Roxas's breath caught in his throat, against the lump, and the fluttery feeling in his stomach buzzed madly, made him dizzy. "What?"

"I've tried. A few times, at least, but, you know. I don't think I want to."

The clock ticked, and Roxas agreed silently, arms sliding around between the small of Axel's back and the seat cushion, holding him tight and closing his eyes. He thought about agreeing out loud, admitting to all the thoughts that swirled through his mind, all his doubts and fears and how they held him back, how they made it hard to speak. He thought about trying to explain the feelings twisting around inside him, the ones he didn't have names for, the ones that swelled and fluttered and ached, the shivering one that was so big he didn't think he'd ever be able to control it. He thought about trying to condense it down, finding one simple thing to say that would make it all clear. Something that would encompass all the feelings, the fear and the excitement, the inevitable and consuming idea of being with Axel.

He thought, and he thought, but he still didn't have any answers, and he still didn't know any of the words. He remembered something, though, about a little blue flower. How the boy had offered it, eyes softening, how the girl's face lit up and how brilliantly she smiled, how they'd both understood in that moment.

Maybe they didn't need words.

Roxas shifted onto his knees, moved up just enough to wrap his arms around Axel's shoulders instead, to pull him close and rest his cheek against Axel's temple and breathe in the smell of his hair. And when Axel let out a heavy sigh like he was deflating, when he wound his arms tight around Roxas and buried his face in the curve of his neck, when he inhaled deep like he could drown in just the warmth and smell of Roxas--somewhere in the deepest center of Roxas's being, down in the dense core of the twisting mess that had once been his inner blank, something crystallized. He shivered with it, with the feeling that was too big to comprehend, with the sudden, giddy understanding that Axel felt it, too.

It was the most natural feeling in the world, just being there, wrapped up in each other. Just knowing that whatever this was, wherever it went and whatever was waiting for them at the end, they were in it together.

* * *

The sound of the clock ticking, the green-striped fabric against his back and the jut of Axel's collarbone under his cheek was like nostalgia. Roxas closed his eyes and they were back at the beginning with just the idea of being close. It was soothing, dwelling in that memory, watching the stretch of time between then and now.

"Are you asleep?" Axel's voice was a bare whisper, fingers threading through his hair. Roxas imagined him staring down at his face the way he did, tracing his features, the curves of his cheekbones, the line of his nose, the part of his lips.

"No," he murmured back, opening his eyes and letting the memory go. "M'not tired." He shifted, pulled away from his pillow on Axel's shoulder and pushed up on one elbow, and Axel tilted his head like he knew what was coming before Roxas even pressed their lips together. Axel surprised him by deepening it, fingers trailing down from Roxas's hair, along his neck, other arm sliding around his waist to pull him closer.

It was slow, all their movements lazy and unhurried but Axel kept his hand on Roxas's neck, guiding the tip of his head, tongue moving with the same lazy grace as his mouth and the arm pulling him steadily closer, legs parted around Axel's hips now and chests flush and warm against each other and Roxas shivered, and every movement made the heat build under his skin. He tried to prepare, to steel himself to keep the want from coiling up in his stomach and complicating everything again, just when Axel had returned and they were starting to understand each other.

But Axel knew him too well. Knew exactly what to do, how to move, where to press with lips and tongue to slide beneath all of his defenses.

When Axel finally released him, arms dropping to Roxas's waist and relaxing back against the arm of the chair, all of Roxas's bones were quivering. His cheeks were hot, breath coming too fast, fingers still gripping handfuls of Axel's shirt and Axel just stared at him. Licked his lips, like this was exactly what he'd intended to happen.

"You know how I said I couldn't stop thinking about you?" Axel's voice was low, maybe a little deeper than usual and had taken on a husk that made Roxas's skin prickle. His eyes darted all around, all up and down over Roxas's body before resettling on his face, licking his lips again. "While I was gone I kept thinking about the night before I left. That thing that happened to you." Axel breathed out, and his hands were moving slightly, shifting up and down over Roxas's hips. "How you looked, the sounds you made. What it felt like holding you while that happened."

Roxas swallowed hard, but not to push away any lumps now--it was reflexive, it went along with the little shivers in his nerves, which in turn went along with the tone of Axel's voice and the idea that he had _enjoyed_ that. Enjoyed it enough to think about it later.

"I wanted to come back and see you so bad." The admission came out in a rush of breath, Axel's eyes softening, lids drooping just a bit and he reached up with one hand, traced the curve of Roxas's cheek with one finger, brushed his thumb over the blush there. "But I couldn't, and I couldn't stop thinking, so..." his voice trailed off, throat bobbed as he swallowed, tongue darting out to wet his lips just slightly again and his hands dropped back, curling around Roxas's hips. "I would lie on my back in bed at night, and imagine you just like this." His fingers tightened, specifying the position, pulling just slightly and Roxas bit his lip, watching Axel's face, the way his mouth fell open just slightly. "And imagine we were moving..." his breath caught and his hips rolled up, just slightly, just for a moment but it was enough to shoot a twinge of pleasure through Roxas, make all the heat in his body rush straight down to that point, enough to make him gasp and shiver. "Like this."

Roxas let out a breath, sharp and fast, hands still curled in Axel's shirt, right over his stomach, holding on like he'd slip off the edge of the world if he let go. "Did--did you," he stumbled, wanting to know so bad but afraid to ask, afraid to lay the implication on himself. "...touch?"

"Yeah," Axel breathed, hesitant at first, but then a slow, salacious grin spread across his face, shifting to sit up straighter, elbows against the armrest so he could lean in, nose brushing against Roxas's, breath tickling his lips, eyes brilliant green and narrow in the dark. "You've done it, too." It wasn't a question, didn't require an answer, Axel detouring to nuzzle his cheek, lips teasing against his chin and Roxas gasped against his ear and that was enough. "I imagined what you'd do, you know," he breathed, mouth pausing here and there to press soft against his jawline. "How you'd move. How your back would arch, and you'd shudder, and your fingers on me." Axel's breath stuttered for a moment before he moved on, traced the curve of Roxas's ear with his nose, words murmuring hot and damp into it. "And the look on your face when your eyes closed, when you moaned. It felt so good."

Axel exhaled in his ear and Roxas shuddered, hands sliding up over Axel's shoulders and it was like the words were in his skin, the idea throbbing and hot in the air around them and it was right there. If he moved his hips, if he pressed in, if he breathed a word it would be his.

"It felt so good," Axel repeated, leaning back to where he'd started, noses brushing together, eyes staring into his, "but I wanted to do it for real."

Roxas twisted the fabric of Axel's shirt under his hands, breath too fast, trembling too much, ears ringing and blood rushing through his veins and the pulse of heat between his legs and the electric net over his body that fueled it were the only things in the world that didn't feel thick and fuzzy. Those and Axel's voice, Axel's eyes, everywhere that Axel came in contact with him. All of these were sharp, high-definition, hypersensitive. He swallowed, thick, like his mouth had gone dry, almost afraid and completely afraid in some ways, but he nodded. Two small, bare jerks of the head and Axel's eyes dropped closed. Their lips touched.

It was different now, now that he knew what they were going to do, what was going to happen; everything was amplified, ignited. He murmured a sound into Axel's mouth, listened to how they both breathed through their noses, and like a silent agreement hands started roaming. Roxas slid his over Axel's chest, slowly, feeling out the lines of his muscles through his shirt. Axel moved his own hands down, over Roxas's thighs and up around his ass, up further to slip under his shirt, palms flat against his back and the feeling was like melting, like his nerves were soaking into Axel's fingers and the feeling was so intense at first that he had to break away, breathe through his mouth in short, fast bursts while Axel stared. Slid his hands up higher and back down, feeling Roxas shiver.

It wasn't enough, he thought, to feel this good alone. Roxas swallowed to get a hold of his breath, let his eyes close when Axel ducked down to press lips against his throat, and pulled up the hem of Axel's shirt, let his fingers spread over his stomach, curling against the lines of muscle there, thumbs brushing against his navel, tracing the soft line of hair below it. Axel stumbled to a halt, hands curling against Roxas's back, deep, long moan vibrating against his collarbone and suddenly Roxas had to move. Limbs shaking, everything hesitant and uncertain but _wanting_, body vibrant with it, hands pushing Axel back and elbows propping against the armrest and knees sinking into the chair cushion, and the movement was stuttering and awkward and it didn't line up just right but he pushed down anyway, hips rubbing long and slow and delicious, shuddering with it, moaning low and soft.

Axel clawed at his hips, back arching and hips jerking and breathing in hard, heavy gasps around words that sounded like, "Fuck," and then "Roxas," and then "Oh fuck, wait," and he was wriggling, body in an awkward half-upright position against the arm of the chair. Roxas stopped and stayed perfectly in place while he settled, almost afraid to move on the chance this feeling might disappear, the clawing pleasure and the way his head spun, senses overwhelmed and the way the fluttery feeling and the shivering feeling had combined somewhere deep in his core, deeper even than where his heart should have been, something that pulsed with every touch, every sound, every movement, even the sight of Axel laughing softly, apologetic for stalling them. Pulling Roxas back in, hands sliding all over him and lips brushing his in a way that was electric, that made a shiver run down his spine, and then his hips pressed up and killed any coherent thought that might have been in Roxas's head.

Seconds were counted in movements, in the rush of heat through his body, in beats of sensation. The taste of Axel's tongue, like nothing else in the world, moaning around it, catching Axel's hair rough between his fingers. Clawing at the upholstery under his hands, pressing hard and rubbing slow, small, high sounds in his throat with each roll of hips, eyes open and staring down, watching how Axel's eyelashes fluttered, how his mouth would drop open in a moan, breath hot and damp against Roxas's lips; how his eyes would open just a slit, glittering in the pale light from the windows, watching him back. Curling in on himself, head against Axel's shoulder, face pressed into his neck, the smell of him close and overwhelming and the white heat twisting around tighter and tighter and whispering little half-formed words, body shaking and completely outside his control and they were still moving. Even after Roxas's legs stopped supporting him, shuddering and useless with the rest of his body, Axel's voice murmuring in his ear, cussing and yes and his name over and over again--they were still moving, Axel's hands on his hips, and Roxas thought he was going to shake until he fell apart.

* * *

There was a point at which they were relocating, across the floor and stumbling, muscles lethargic and uncertain. There was a point at which they collapsed in Axel's bed, tangled together and sweaty, still panting a bit, still trembling a bit, and he thought Axel might have murmured something like, "Fuck, that was incredible," into his bangs, but after that they were relaxing, breath slowing, slipping back into a normal state and then into a deep, boneless sleep.

He woke up to the smell of Axel's pillow under his nose, Axel himself nuzzled against his chest. He laid there for a while, fingers brushing through red spikes, reveling in the feel of waking like this, body fully relaxed, sated, a glow under his skin and a memory hiding deep in his gut like a secret. Axel was still sound asleep, arm slung over Roxas's hip, low rumble in his chest that wasn't quite a snore. Laid there until Axel woke up with a languid stretch and a yawn, limbs tangling further with Roxas's and dropping a kiss on his chest, just above the collar of his shirt. "Morning."

Roxas hummed against his hair in response, eyes closed, body deeply content but mind slightly restless. He moved when Axel shifted for comfort but neither of them showed any sign of wanting to get up, break apart, move on from this. He sighed a little, thoughts traveling outside the room for a moment. "Hey."

"Mm?" Axel's voice was a soft breath against his chest.

"Have you ever... told anyone else?" He swallowed, searched for a way to clarify, head tilting down to nuzzle the top of Axel's head, inhaling. "About us."

Axel's response was simple, honest, precluded by a lazy sigh. "Nope."

Roxas licked his lips, tasted the remnants of the night before and Axel's shampoo and remembered feeling small back at the beginning, remembered feeling helpless, remembered that it was okay to feel that way with Axel. "Have you ever done any of this stuff with anyone else?"

"Of course not," Axel said, like that was the most ridiculous question he'd ever heard, humming a soft laugh and nuzzling the shirt covering Roxas's chest, making it bunch up. Roxas could feel his lips moving through the fabric. "Why would I want to?"

Roxas was glad that the world outside the Castle was always dark, and that Axel's eyes were closed, because the giant, shivering feeling inside him went warm, and the smile that curled over his face was so broad and ridiculous that he buried it in the pillow and Axel's hair until it finally stopped. And somewhere deep in his chest, beneath the folds and twists that had once been the blank landscape that made up his inner being, down where it went dense, where a crystal core was slowly turning rose-petal pink, there was a very small thrum. Almost like a sitar string being plucked, a brief vibration like a beat. A pulse.

* * *

"Roxas."

They were in Twilight Town this time, Demyx chattering with a local at the nearby item shop, Roxas with a stick of ice cream in his mouth, watching the tram as it rumbled past without really seeing it. Eyes unfocused, melting ice cream dripping over his glove unnoticed. Axel still had to leave from time to time, which meant Roxas still had to go out on assignment with Demyx, but that was fine. His mind like to replay their most recent experiment over in a daydream, the world around him fading away while he remembered how Axel's skin had felt under his hands, how good it tasted and how he'd lost himself in exploring it, in the sounds being made somewhere over his head and the heat coiling through his body, until he finally reached the waistband of Axel's pants and came back around. He looked up, and was embarrassed to see little red and purple marks scattered all over Axel's torso, neck to waist. Axel laughed at the look on his face, pulled him down and pressed their lips and everything else together until he moaned.

Demyx snapped gloved fingers in front of his face and the spell broke. Roxas jerked back into the present and abruptly shook a puddle of melted ice cream off his hand, hissing. "Dammit."

"You've been doing that a lot," Demyx observed, eyebrows together, shifting from foot to foot like he was examining Roxas from multiple angles. "Looking off into space. Sometimes you blush." His eyes narrowed a little, arms folding in front of him. "Sometimes you're looking at Axel."

Roxas made a noise of derision, mouth on the underside of his ice cream bar, trying to salvage the melting corners. "So?"

"So it's weird." Demyx was frowning at this point, both at his concern and Roxas's dismissal of it. "Those feelings you said you were having. They went away, right?"

Roxas opened and closed his mouth, distracted from rapidly diminishing ice cream and how his gloves were going to be sticky for the rest of the day, now, to consider what to say. Whether to say anything. He sighed finally, pushed the ice cream back in his mouth. "Yeah, sure, Dem."

For a minute, Demyx didn't look like he believed him. Roxas gave him credit for that; Demyx wasn't dumb, had a ruthless streak a mile wide and a puppylike sense of loyalty. He shifted on his feet again, the same nervous energy he always had, and finally relented. "Fine. But if they didn't I'd have to tell you that you'd better tell the Superior, because I don't think that's supposed to happen. And I don't think this," he waved at Roxas and his ice cream as though to indicate a great many things, "is supposed to happen, either. Okay?"

He didn't have to add the _and if you don't tell him, I will_, because that much was perfectly clear, just from the tone. Roxas nodded, shrugged, dismissive of the whole thing and only scowled when Demyx had turned to move on, saying something about a nest of Wizards.

There was no way to explain this to Xemnas, what was happening and the thing that was forming in his chest. Something in his gut quailed at the idea of confiding in him, about the feelings and the confusion and feeling bad about the death and destruction he caused. That was something he'd only just started to tell Axel, in a small, soft voice in the dark, late at night. Halting when he tried to describe the feelings, low and mumbling when he tried to explain the fears that still hovered in the back of his mind, sometimes. Quivering when he confessed about the boy and girl, how he was sorry that they died, how he wished he'd cared enough to save them. Little pieces of himself, a bit at a time, hesitantly offered up for Axel's acceptance.

The others, the Superior, they didn't need to know. It was between the two of them alone, private. Special.

* * *

The next time Axel came back, he stripped Roxas's shirt off and pushed him down on the bed, hands and mouth roaming all over his skin, touching and tasting and lavishing attention on any particular spot that made Roxas shiver or gasp or moan. He worked his way all over Roxas's neck, arms, torso and down over his belly this way, teeth and tongue teasing the skin underneath his navel while Roxas writhed, hands clawing at the sheets, legs pressing against Axel's sides, breath coming fast and harsh and Axel's thumb popped the button of his pants, fingers pulled the zipper down, and his mouth slid down further.

He felt awkward at first, after Axel tugged his pants and underwear off and he was completely naked; felt a little vulnerable until Axel's eyes flickered over him, mouth open and staring like he'd never seen anything so amazing in his life, hands petting over Roxas's thighs, thumbs running up along the inside, nerves melting into the touch until Roxas shuddered, hips jerking, and then his mouth returned to where it had been, and continued moving down. And down.

The feel of Axel's tongue against him, his mouth around him, was unbelievable and impossible. Wet and hot and so, so wrong at first until Roxas looked down, saw Axel watching him, green eyes bright in the yellow glow of the lamp he'd left on, intent and curious and a little bit wicked, and Roxas choked on a moan, buried his fingers in Axel's hair and gave in.

It was strange and new like everything else, uncertain like they always were before practice and understanding got it right. Axel choked a few times, learned he had to hold Roxas's hips down, learned not to use his teeth, and Roxas learned not to pull his hair that hard, ouch, thanks--but it ended with Axel moaning and Roxas stuttering his name, slow shudder running through him head to toe. With Axel making a face at the taste and Roxas laughing, with Axel collapsing on the bed beside him and admitting that he'd taken care of himself, sucking and watching Roxas lose his mind, one hand down the front of his pants.

Later that same evening--much later--when Axel was silent and a little tired, naked aside from a sheet and lounging back with one wrist over his eyes, Roxas snuck up against his side, waited for Axel's free arm to wrap around his waist, and slid over to lay his head on Axel's chest. He closed his eyes, listening to the steady pull and release of breath, the slow and steady rhythm of Axel's life, and still thought that was more than enough.

"Thought I told you to stop doing that," Axel muttered, but didn't push him away.

"I can hear you breathing," Roxas said, murmured words and a soft kiss on his skin, no fear or nerves or uncertainty to wrap around his throat now. "Just that. It's always just been that."

Eyes closed and perfectly, unbelievably content, he didn't see the way that Axel smiled.


End file.
